


Sixty-One

by lalarandoms



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Break Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalarandoms/pseuds/lalarandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixty one days has passed when he became the one person he never wanted to become.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I'm not very good with summaries, forgive me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixty-One

It was a chilly Tuesday as rain fell in a torrent from the sky. It was also sixty days since he’d fucked up. And fucked up bad. 

Rafael stood in front of his window, staring at the street below him, watching people run for cover as the rain poured down harder on them. He jumped and felt an unwanted chill run down his spine as thunder crackled in the sky. Still, he did not move from his position, the same position he stood in day after day after work or on his days off. Hoping, wishing, praying to see him.

He chuckled to himself. Here he was sixty days later, standing in front of the windowsill of his so-called marvelous penthouse apartment, staring at the streets and wishing he’d come back. Again, he chuckled.  _ Fuck. _ He thought. Finally giving up, he closed the curtains in front of him before turning his attention to the minibar by the looming, pretentious bookcase. 

He dragged his bare feet across the white Persian rug that wasn’t as soft as it looked, tripping over his own feet in pants that were far too long for him. But of course they were too long; they weren’t his. Rafael Barba didn’t care for sports in general, and he certainly didn’t own MET sweatpants, and yet he found himself wearing them everyday for the last sixty days. He knew it was disgusting, wearing sweatpants that haven’t been washed since lord only knows how long. But he didn’t care. The scent of him still lingered in the sweats, and he wouldn’t dare wash the only physical reminder of the one he pushed away. 

He grabbed a bottle of single malt scotch and poured himself half a glass over some ice, bringing it to his nose to inhale the bitter yet smooth scent; the anticipation and the drink all part of a game he played every night before bed. His mind became blank as he inhaled, knowing this drink was the only way he could truly get a good night’s sleep. It shut out his loneliness, and he no longer cried himself to sleep. Or so he thought.

He didn’t really know if he still cried himself to sleep, but he did know that the amber liquid made him forget everything, even if just for the night. And it would make him forget for the sixtieth night in a row. He sat Indian style on his black leather sofa, taking long, luxurious sips of the liquid poison that was now his one and only best friend.

He stared at the blank flat screen TV in front of him as he drank; trying to remember the last night he truly enjoyed watching television. He savored every sip, tilting his head back as he felt the burning sensation run down his throat. The burn had become a comforting feeling. It made him feel alive. But suddenly, without any warning, he broke. His shoulders started to shake up and down as his chest tightened. The loud and painful sobs that came out of him scared him; he hadn’t cried this hard since his  _ abuelita  _ passed away two years ago. But here he was, sitting on a beautiful sofa in a stunning room lit by painstakingly engraved lamps, crying his fucking eyes out once again. It was almost a daily routine at this point.

He didn’t calm down until he had downed the last bit of scotch, and even then a few stray tears ran down his cheeks. He wiped his face and placed the glass on the coffee table in front of him, deciding it was time to go to bed. It was only seven-thirty but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the hunger pains, or the fact that his stomach was rumbling loudly. His appetite was long gone.

Food made him remember all the times they’d experimented with recipe’s in his kitchen. It reminded him of the flour and sugar that would fly across his expansive kitchen as they hid on opposite sides of the island during their numerous “food fights”. It reminded him of all the complicated treats they failed to make after regrettably promising to give some to the squad.

No, the last thing he needed was food. 

Barba shut off the lights and made his way to his bedroom in the dark. If it wasn’t for his maid, Tasha, his apartment would be a pigsty and he’d be tripping over everything on his way to his room. As he opened his bedroom door and went in, he was once again greeted with darkness and could not help but think of the irony. His entire life was filled with darkness. But that he could thank his father for. Even long after his death, he still tormented him. 

He thought that after his  _ abuelita  _ passed she would become an angel and watch over him, protecting him from his father’s curse. But to no surprise, she wasn’t watching over him like he wished and thought she would. It made him mad, no it pissed him off the she wasn’t watching him and guiding him in the right direction. Through all his dad’s abuse, his  _ abuelita  _ was always there to defend and protect him, even if it meant taking a few hits herself. But no, when he really needed her, where was she? Where was she when he prayed nightly for her to guide him in the right direction? Where was she sixty days ago? Where was she before…before his fist raised high above him…before he—before he became the one person he said he would never become?

“ _ Pinche pendejo. _ ” He slurred as he slipped under his covers, lifting them midway up his chest. He stared at the stupid glow star stickers that Sonny had put there to surprise him on the ceiling, chuckling as a soft but weak smile spread across his face.

_ “Sonny what is this?” Barba asked as he lay on bed, wearing only his purple boxers. He was happy that they were laying in the dark so Sonny couldn’t see the stupid grin on his face.  _

_ “They’re stars, Rafi.”  _

_ Barba laughed.  _ No shit Sherlock, he thought. _ “Yes, I see that. But why are they on my beautiful cream ceiling?”  _

_ Sonny laughed playfully. He knew Barba would say something materialistic and prickly. “On our third date, you confessed to me that sometimes you wish you didn’t live in the city,” He turned to look at Rafael, who was still staring at the ceiling.  “Because the city lights block the lights that occur in nature.”   _

_ Without thinking, Sonny slipped his hand into his lover’s, locking their fingers together. Despite his hand being bigger than Barba’s, it was somehow the perfect fit.  “So, since we can’t escape the city lights; I decided to bring the universe lights to you.” _

They made love that night. It wasn’t the stale “lovemaking” type that actually meant fucking; it was true and passionate lovemaking. The kind that you see in the movies where the guy finally gets the girl. The kind that neither knew was in them, let alone be able to experience it. The kind that brought Rafael to tears, tears that Sonny kissed away. And with each touch, Rafael whimpered with pleasure. Their lovemaking brought out endless confessions of ‘I love you’ that seemed to come out so easily. They both came out with scratch marks and bite marks that acted as territorial symbols. It was the kind of love making that changed their lives forever.

The large lump that he was trying so hard to swallow was growing. It was too much. It just all hurt too much. Against his will tears started to run down his cheeks and he held his chest tightly. It hurt. All over. Suddenly soft cries turned into full-blown sobs. The vibrations from his body as he cried hysterically caused the bed to shake underneath him. Snot dripped down his nose and tears soaked his shirt, but he didn’t care anymore. He was hurting inside. 

“ _ Abuelita, por favor, ayudarme!” _ he screamed through his tears. “ _ Ayudarme _ !” He yelled at the top of his lungs as his sobs became louder and harder. 

“ _ Ayudarme _ !”

*****

Barba strode down the halls of the precinct with his head held high. He donned a sharp black Burberry suit with a white dress shirt that tucked nicely into his pants He brought it together with a simple black tie. The only thing missing was his waistcoat, but he didn’t feel like wearing one. His outfit was far too simple, a change from his usual flamboyant fashion sense. And yet he felt confident, or at pretended he did.

Before turning the corner into the squad room, Rafael took a deep breath. He was growing anxious and he could feel tears growing, wanting to creep out. But he wouldn’t let his emotions win, he wouldn’t let them defeat him. He needed to stay strong, at least until he left. He straightened his back and tried to gather an air of nonchalance, and with one last deep breath he entered the squad room. He kept his eye contact on the door to Olivia’s office even as he felt every detective’s stare burning a hole into his back. Everyone except Sonny’s, because he wasn’t there.

Go figure, the one person he wants to see but at the same time wasn’t trying to see wasn’t there. Olivia must have tipped him off. He couldn’t blame Sonny; he’d run away from himself too.

With a small frown he opened the door and stepped in slowly, chancing a glance behind him to see if, by some miracle, Sonny would be there. To no surprise his gaze fell on an empty, messy desk where Sonny usually sat. A growing feeling of defeat and frustration came over him as he closed the door behind him. 

“Olivia.” 

***

Barba walked towards the elevators after a tiring meeting with Olivia about some bullshit case that involved some fucking asshole who obviously deserved to be put to death rather than locked up in jail where he’d have access to free food, healthcare, and cable. It was bullshit; everything was bullshit. At this point, he hated everything. He hated going to work, he hated going to court to prosecute some dick, he hated hearing the defense lawyers destroy victims on the stand, he hated losing cases because of bias and prejudice. He was done. He was physically and mentally tired of everything. 

And still, during these times where the world was caving in on him, where everything felt so wrong and he wanted nothing more than to take his own life, he needed him. The only person who mentally and physically calmed him down with almost no effort. The only people who, with a single touch on his skin, brought him back to reality. The person who made him feel he was home. But he fucked that up. He fucked it up sixty-one days ago.   

He lifted his green eyes from the floor as he approached the steps. Immediately he felt his heart stop along with his tracks. Green eyes met blue eyes. Those blue eyes looked just as tired as his, made Barba wonder if maybe he missed him too. No. He wouldn’t even miss himself after what he’d done. They stood in the middle of the hall, frozen in place and staring into each other’s for what felt like eternity but was actually no more than a few seconds. The moment passed just as quickly as it had come and Sonny moved first, trying to walk past Barba. Something in Barba wouldn’t let him walk by. Not after sixty-one long days full of desperation, pain, and guilt. 

Sonny looked deeply into the eyes of the man blocking his path. They were usually bright green, but the dull green eyes he was looking at were not the ones he was in love with.   They were dark and empty, yet full with sorrow. After a few long seconds Sonny broke their gaze and tried again to walk past the smaller man, but he wouldn’t allow it. It was then that Sonny took a step back and really looked at the man standing in front of him.

It was the man who had his heart, his eyes no longer beaming with the cockiness he was famous for. His face looked older than he really was, and his eyes…the dark circles showing telltale signs of lack of sleep. And he looked thinner, a lot thinner. Rafael looked so goddamn tired. It hurt Sonny to see him this way, but he would never show it. “Counselor, please move.” The words came out harsher than he intended them to.

“Give me five minutes.” Barba whispered desperately. 

Sonny shook his head and lowered it as a soft chuckle passed his lips. He looked back up to see the expression on Barba’s face, but all he could see was agony and pain. He looked desperate and tired, but with the slightest glimmer of hope. Sonny glared back, but nodded his head in agreement.

Barba followed Sonny into a secluded area of the building that he didn’t know existed. Their path took them to an old interrogation room that looked like it hadn’t been used since the 90’s and was in need of a major upgrade. Sonny opened the door and turned the light on, stepping aside to let Barba walk in first.  

The lights flickered for a while before the light became still. Sonny closed the door, locking it behind him, before sitting on the edge of the metal table. Barba realized the blinds were shut and no one was able to see them, even if they tried. It was only them now. Sonny and Rafael. No distractions. Rafael and Sonny alone in a room together after sixty-one days of being apart, sixty-one days since that night, the night he fucked him.

It felt like not just the room, but the world stood still as their eyes once again locked gazes. It was something they couldn’t help. Like all the times before it came so naturally. And then, like a car crash, Barba felt the room begin to spin too quickly. The smell of Sonny’s cologne, a smell he had missed so badly, hit him like lightning. Sonny watched him with a stony expression on his face, as if he didn’t give a care in the world. Barba couldn’t blame him; Sonny wasn’t the one who fucked up. He was.

“So we’re here.” Sonny said, finally breaking the awkward silence. 

Barba bit his lower lip as he nervously ran a hand through his hair.  He didn’t know what the fuck he wanted to say. He just wanted to be alone with Sonny. To see that he was just as fucking miserable as Barba was. Which, clearly, he wasn’t.  

A sudden rush of apprehension and shyness came over him, and his eyes broke contact to look at the floor, almost as if he was admiring his expensive leather shoes, while he tried to think of what to say.

_ Fuck, Rafael, say something pendejo.  _ He cursed to himself mentally. Without looking up from the floor he tried to say something…anything. But all he could think about was the fucking lump in his throat. His heart began to beat faster and his chest tightened, making his breathing labored. 

“Sonny—Carisi.” He corrected himself. They weren’t on a first name basis anymore. He held back tears and tried to force the lump back down his throat. The words weren’t coming out.  Inside he chuckled to himself, here was Rafael fucking Barba, the man who always had something to say. And now he was speechless. Who would've thought.

But Sonny did that to him.  

“I know there aren’t words in the English or Spanish language that could describe how sorry I am about what happened. My actions were so reprehensible and unforgivable that I know I cannot forgive myself for what I have done. For the past sixty-one days what I did repeats over and over in my head like a broken record player. It replays in my head all day. Every spiteful word that I said to you makes me feel disgusted, and I feel like I want to vomit.” 

Sonny cagily watched Barba pace back and forth as he spoke, noting that his eyes never left the ground. He perched on the edge of the cold metal table, quietly listening to every word. 

“And I know what I’m about to say doesn’t justify what I did but I—I wasn’t me. I can’t really explain, but it felt like all the rage that had built up inside me all those years just exploded. And it was aimed at the wrong person. The one person who I have and will always love.”

The defeated look came back onto Barba’s face, tears that had threatened to spill from his eyes now falling down his cheeks. The annoying throat lump was also making an encore performance. He cried quietly and stopped pacing, pressing his back against the concrete wall, still looking intently at his shoes. “You did nothing wrong.” He professed.

A minute passed in silence and he dared himself to look up, to look into Sonny’s beautiful but dead blue eyes. But he couldn’t do it. He was scared, scared to see what expression would be staring back at him. So he continued to look at the floor.

“It was me. I am the one who fucked up. I am the one who aimed years, maybe even decades, of hurt and anger at you. I am the one who pushed all those years of pain so far into the fucking recesses of my mind that it all came out at once. The person I pictured spending the rest of my life with. And now that I know I can’t live without you, it pains me so much more to know that I hurt you as bad my father hurt me.”

He stopped to take a breath. The tears came faster and harder, and he knew looked disgusting, but he didn’t care. This was him being raw and real in front of someone who he had hoped to one day call his husband. Sonny needed to see this side of him; a side that he may never have known existed. The side that he had hidden so well throughout the years by cloaking his true emotions in sarcasm, meaningless sex, and of course, liquor. Rafael was stripping all the layers of pain, hurt, disgust, everything. He needed Sonny to see so he could understand.

“I don’t know what caused me to break so hard. I just felt betrayed when I saw the male model flirting with you at the bar. And the way you acted towards me made me feel threatened. By threatened I mean scared to show my emotions. It’s no excuse for my words, but that was how I felt. As crazy as it sounds, I felt as if my father’s spirit had jumped into my body that night. And I did to you what he did to mother. I guess the saying ‘Like father, like son’ is true in my case.

That was all he could think of saying. Finally he looked up at Sonny. Teary green eyes met blue. And suddenly, he was gasping for air again. His sobs gained momentum and wracked his chest, getting faster and louder. His head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton balls as tears ran down his red cheeks and snot dripped down his nose. He couldn’t stop crying because Sonny was just standing there with a blank fucking face. But he knew he deserved it.

“My grandmother wasn’t there to protect me.  She didn’t protect me from my father’s curse, from my father entering my body. She didn’t stop him.  _ Abuelita _ stood there and watched me raise my hand to you, and–” 

_ Fuck _ . 

“—hit you.”  He forced the words out through hard sobs. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, the weight of his guilt too much to bear standing. He covered his face while more tears blurred his vision. His loud cries of remorse and agony echoed in the small space between them.

“I thought she loved me.” He added quietly while he gathered himself together, standing up to regain some semblance of his old self through the tears and snot. No longer afraid, he looked at the pair of blue eyes that never left looked away. “I thought that when she passed she would be my guardian angel.  She–” Sobs trapped inside of him once again choked back his words, and the fucking lump that didn’t seem to want to go away just kept growing as he tried to keep himself together.  

“She protected me from my father while I was younger, and took a few beatings from him in order to protect me. She…she would comfort  _ me _ after my fucking father beat her.” He shook his head.  

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself not to broke eye contact. “And I thought that even in the afterlife she would find a way to protect me from him. But she didn’t. Because she doesn’t care anymore.” Barba finished sadly.

Sonny knew that wasn’t true, not even close to the truth.  Although he never had the privilege of meeting Rafael’s grandmother, he knew that she loved him as if he were her own son. He knew that she was watching him from above, even if Barba didn’t. Sonny could feel her, even now. The chill he felt next to him wasn’t because of the part of the building they were in. Rafael’s grandmother was standing beside him, watching alongside with him as Rafael broke down. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but he prayed to her every night, every single night since Rafael had laid his hands on him. All those sixty-one days that he too counted, he prayed. He prayed for an answer. He prayed for her to protect him. His heart ached at the sight of the man he fell in love with falling apart.   Before Sonny could speak Barba cut him off. 

“If I am truly anything like my father, then I no longer want to live in on this planet. I refuse to live knowing that my father’s wickedness runs in my veins. I refuse to live knowing that I could hurt someone I love, especially over something so stupid like being friendly to some guy at a bar. I don’t want to be anything like him, and if that is what I am deep down, then I need to die before I hurt anyone else.” Sonny jumped off the table, wondering if he imagined a cold gust helping him off, as if Rafael’s _abuelita_ was there in the room, guiding him.

Barba once again sunk to the ground, dropping all semblance of composure and bringing his knees to his chest. He buried his face in his hands, covering himself as he felt sobs explode out of him. Suddenly he sensed a warm presence in front of him, but he couldn’t bear to look, he felt crazy enough. He didn’t need confirmation that he actually was.

And then he felt it. He felt soft hands hold on to his, slowly taking them off his face. Rafael kept his head down and his eyes shut tight as tears continued to run down his cheeks. He was afraid to look. He didn’t want him to go; not yet. He wanted—no he needed to cherish this moment before Sonny pulled away again.

And then it happened.  He felt Sonny lift his chin up with his thumb and his index finger until they were eye to eye. Still he refused to open his eyes, not wanting Sonny to see the monster within him. 

“Open your eyes.” Sonny commanded softly, his voice like a chorus of angels. The sound was music to Barba’s ears, and made shivers run down his spine. Still he kept his eyes closed, and shook his head ‘no’ as tears continued to fall. 

“Please open your eyes. For me.” Barba detected a touch of neediness in Sonny’s voice.

Barba acquiesced and slowly opened his green eyes, meeting a pair of blue ones patiently staring back. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t affected by Sonny’s gaze. It took all his power not to take him into his arms and place his lips on Sonny’s. But then he remembers the night he betrayed Sonny’s trust. The night his father’s body took over his without permission. The night Sonny ran out of his apartment, holding the right side of his face as it turned red.

“I can’t say that I’ll forget everything that happened that night. Honestly, I can’t even tell you that I forgive you for it. But I promise to try.” 

Rafael gave him a weak smile and nodded in agreement. “I understand.” 

“But I can’t pretend that the sixty-one days I spent away from you weren’t the hardest days of my life. I can’t pretend that it didn’t take every ounce in me to continue on each day.  It would be a lie to say that on those sixty-one nights I didn’t spend crying myself to sleep, that my heart didn’t ache for you...for us.  That yes, even though you hit me, I still couldn’t stop loving you.” Now Sonny was in tears. “I can’t tell you that that night, the look in your eyes didn’t scare the fuck out of me.  But I can tell you that I knew it wasn’t you…that it wasn’t fully you. But I refuse to be one of the cases we get on a daily basis here.”

Before he could react to Sonny’s words, he felt his lips press against his. Rafael felt like he was in twilight zone. Was this really happening, were Sonny’s sweet plump lips on top of his own tear-stained ones? Yes, it was real. And then it was over before it even began, which Barba was sure to express with a frown.

“I love you, Rafi.”

Before Barba could respond, Sonny cut him off. 

“I love you, but I can’t be with you. Not like this. You need to get help.” 

And there was that knife jabbing back right into his heart.  “I love you Sonny.” 

Sonny ignored his statement and continued to speak sternly. “I want you to see a therapist to help you with your issues with your father. If you promise to do that, I promise to be with you every step of the way.”

_ Wait, what? He wants? He’ll be with me every step of the way?  _  Barba thought to himself as the tears on his cheeks dried up. Inside he knew he wasn’t lying. Sonny never lied. 

“You need to get help before you and I can even think about rebuilding our relationship.” Sonny added before standing back up.

Barba did the same. He couldn’t even begin to express how grateful he was, all he could do was smile. But he still felt alone. He needed to feel Sonny, to hold him. To wrap his arms around his long torso and bury his tear-stained, snotty face into his chest. He needed to feel his embrace, feel the beat of his heart.

“Look, I better go before Benson sends the entire squad to look for me.” 

Sonny started to walk past him and Barba grabbed his left wrist, turning him so they faced each other again. He brought his tall frame closer to him, gently wrapping his small arms around him. Every second he was in fear of Sonny pushing him away, but he felt his embrace accepted and a long, skinny pair of arms wrap tightly around his back, caressing him. With a sigh of relief, Rafael rested his head on Sonny’s chest as he had done so many times before.

Heartbeat. 

There it was, so steady and so real.  Those sixty-one nights he spent laying on his bed daydreaming, wishing he could hear Sonny’s heartbeat, were coming true, even if it was only for a little while. Barba felt his heartbeat sync with Sonny’s, and a feeling came over him that he hadn’t felt in a while. And just as easily as it had become, it was over. The warmth from their embrace was replaced by the cold chill of the room.

“I’m sorry, but I really gotta go.”  Sonny whispered as he held Rafael’s hand, slowly letting go as he walked towards the door. 

“Call me, later.”

Barba felt far more emotions than his body could handle, but they were emotions he hadn’t felt in sixty-one days. He felt loved.

“ _ Gracias, abuelita _ .” He whispered as he looked at the ceiling above him. After a beat he pulled the blinds up to adjust himself in the mirror before making his exit from the room that had helped change his life, not noticing the cold gust of wind that disappeared as he closed the door.


End file.
